Chapter 2 - The Letter His Mother Hid
Vincent Moretti had lied about business trips, hotel rooms, and another woman.
But the expression on his face told me his biggest lie might have started long before Christmas Eve.
"What did Sofia leave me?" I repeated.
Vincent glanced at Rebecca.
"Claire, this isn't the place."
"Then give me one."
He dragged a hand through his hair.
"My mother's estate included a sealed trust."
I stared.
"A trust?"
He nodded.
"She asked that it be kept private until certain conditions were met."
"What conditions?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Until you had a child."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
My hand moved instinctively toward my stomach.
Then I forced it down.
Vincent noticed the movement.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Claire?"
I stepped backward.
"Keep talking."
He swallowed.
"Mom created a private fund for our future children. She also left you a letter."
My chest tightened.
"A letter?"
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
"At the house."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
Vincent lowered his eyes.
"Because she told me to wait."
I stared.
"Sofia died two years ago."
"I know."
"She knew we were trying to have a baby."
"Yes."
"And you never thought I deserved to know she'd written me a letter?"
Vincent looked ashamed.
"I thought I was protecting you."
I almost laughed.
That phrase.
He'd used it every time he hid something.
Every canceled dinner.
Every unexplained trip.
Every strange transfer from our accounts.
Always the same excuse.
I was protecting you.
"Protecting me from what?" I demanded.
He didn't answer.
That silence told me enough.
Rebecca stepped forward.
"Mr. Moretti, any document intended for my client needs to be preserved and produced through the appropriate legal process."
Vincent nodded.
"I'll arrange it."
I turned away.
But he spoke again.
"Claire, there are things about my family you don't understand."
I stopped.
"I understand that you chose Vanessa."
His expression crumpled.
"I never stopped loving you."
I looked back.
"Then you have a very strange way of showing it."
Before he could respond, my phone rang.
It was our housekeeper, Rosa Martinez.
Rosa had worked for the Moretti family for eighteen years.
She rarely called me at work.
Especially after midnight.
I answered immediately.
"Rosa?"
Her voice was trembling.
"Dr. Claire, are you somewhere safe?"
My stomach dropped.
"Yes. Why?"
"Someone came to the house."
I froze.
"Who?"
"Two men. They said Mr. Vincent had sent them."
I looked at my husband.
He shook his head.
"I didn't send anyone."
Rosa continued.
"They wanted access to Mrs. Sofia's study."
My heart pounded.
"Did you let them in?"
"No."
"Good."
"But they already had a key."
I stared.
"What?"
Rosa began crying.
"They opened the study and searched her desk. I heard them arguing."
"About what?"
She lowered her voice.
"The letter."
I felt cold.
"What letter?"
"The one Mrs. Sofia left for you."
Vincent stepped closer.
"Put her on speaker."
I did.
"Rosa," he said, "who were the men?"
A pause.
Then she whispered, "I recognized one of them."
"Who?"
"Your business partner, Mr. Adrian Bellini."
Vincent went completely still.
Adrian Bellini.
The man who had been Vincent's closest friend since childhood.
The man who served as best man at our wedding.
The man who once brought flowers to my hospital after my miscarriage.
Rosa continued.
"Dr. Claire, they took something from the safe."
My throat tightened.
"What?"
"A red folder."
Vincent whispered something in Italian.
May you like
Then Rosa said the sentence that made both of us freeze.
"Mrs. Sofia told me that folder contained proof of who was really responsible for your first baby's death."
